I can think of a dozen clichés that fit my idea of May. Most converge on the various themes of spring: rebirth, renewal, rejuvenation—or basically anything else that might make the recent winter a little more palatable. For instance, while moping through another March snowstorm, I tied twenty-seven exact duplicates of a tarpon fly I saw on TV, even though I had no chance to escape to the flats this year. I was tying flies for bucket-mouths because I’d already dressed every trout and salmon hook within my reach with various layers of marabou and chenille. In January, afraid to even look outside for fear of instant frostbite, I watched Drift, a new fly-fishing flick from Confluence Films, three times in one weekend. There was also a strangely satisfying afternoon spent flipping yarn at our cat. Throughout February my family and friends quite capably avoided contact with me. Hilariously, I even grew a beard.

All that’s past now; I just have to look outside to see that the first crocuses have appeared. Winter wasn’t so bad, I can say now that there’s real urgency to my leader-tying exploits. In fact, from this vantage, there seems a certain purgatorial quality to it, like the first taste of spring is all the sweeter because I was forced to swallow the entirety of the northern winter without so much as a single false cast (if you don’t count the cat business).

Fully emancipated from my seasonal angst, May means the return of soft water, even if a lot of it looks like Yoo-hoo. There’s new backing on every reel, all the lines are cleaned, and I certainly have plenty of flies. Reborn or not, I can fish, and as early-season options are abundant in Alaska, it feels like a new beginning. Catharsis by choice, then.

The obvious targets for the launching of a new year are the state’s Chinook, the longest-lived and largest of the Pacific salmon. In Alaska their native range begins near Point Hope just north of Kotzebue Sound and stretches south to the Islands of the Four Mountains in the Aleutian Chain and from there west across the Gulf of Alaska to Dixon Entrance. The species is most abundant from the southeastern panhandle north to the Yukon River, with major populations returning to the state’s great watersheds, namely the Yukon, Kuskokwim, Nushagak, Susitna and Copper river systems. Important runs also occur in many other Alaska rivers, among them the Alagnak, Kenai, Kanektok, Naknek and Togiak.

Many of these river systems and the tributaries that feed them, as well as the innumerable smaller rivers and creeks that vein the state, also offer plenty of spring potential for more reliably local quarry, to include my favorites, the rainbow trout.

Rainbows, Dollies, Arctic char, grayling and cutthroat trout each present a compelling argument for a day spent streamside, and oftentimes, several of these species can be targeted simultaneously. Broadly speaking, anadromous Dolly Varden migrate to the sea from April through early June, with the fishing often good throughout this window in both the migratory streams and the associated beaches near river mouths. At the same time, even before the ice has completely vacated the upstream tributary reaches, grayling will be concentrated near river mouths, awaiting an opportunity to ascend to their spawning grounds. In many areas, there can be thousands of fish in a short section of water.

Small size 8 or 10 streamers work well for grayling during this early time of the year, especially those that imitate juvenile salmon in watersheds that also contain out-migrating smolt. Handily, this is also the best bet for rainbows and Dollies, both of which frequently occupy the same water. And even though there usually won’t be much insect activity during the early Alaska spring, general attractor patterns like Humpies and Royal Wulffs skated across the surface can bring good results in areas with solid sail-fin congregations. And as is usual when fishing with insect imitations, nymphs can be even more productive.

Spring is a great time to find Alaska’s coastal cuts as well, before the fish begin spawning and then depart for their offshore feeding grounds. Thriving populations of speckled trout can be found in many of the streams that tumble from the boreal forests of Southeast, or farther inland, among the basin-bottomed lakes of the region, which produce Alaska’s most consistent trophy populations. As with rainbows, Dollies and grayling, spring cutthroat can be targeted with alevin and fry patterns, and just prior to their own ocean migrations, smolt patterns. Sculpins and leeches will be effective in spots, though spring is also a good time to break out the dry flies for cutthroat.

Last but not least are the lakes. When winter’s icy grip finally recedes from the state, anglers are afforded a rare opportunity to have consistent success in the shallows, or in places, up top. Many will be after pike, Alaska’s monster marauder that can be stalked like a lion on the Serengeti. Additionally, at this time of year, lake trout can be found anywhere in the water column, and after a long winter spent beneath the ice pack, they’re more than willing to chase a fly. Add in the annual smolt out-migration and you have all the ingredients for an explosive fishery, as the warming of large oligotrophic lakes triggers a mass exodus of juvenile salmon bound for the sea. Lake trout and their other cousin-char stage at points of interception in shallow, shoreline waters or at the head of a stream outlet and capitalize on this most important staple of their diet.

For the prepared angler, who may or may not have gone slightly crazy while waiting for this day to come, there are no clichés that say it well enough: The season is here, and whether kings or cutthroat, so are the fish.